Blade and Poetry

I woke up with sunshine on my pillow.I felt that the quilt on my body was a bit thick, so I kicked it aside and opened my eyes.

I put on my slippers and planned to go to wash up.I took three or five steps in a certain direction, and habitually reached out to a wall.I pushed lightly on it, and didn't touch a door for a long time. Then I raised my drooping head and rubbed my eyes vigorously.

"There should be a door there." I thought, "My apartment, it should be..."

As I was thinking this way, I suddenly realized that my memory of my apartment had become blurred.I retreated to the bed and sat down, thinking hard about everything about the "apartment".A fragmentary thought of "School" crossed my mind, but after a dozen or so seconds, I wasn't even sure if I ever actually had such an apartment.

This small group of doubts is like a light zipper, while slipping in the direction of my past, it also exposes an excessively large gap behind it.

I thought, "I'm Vicente Shaw. I have a family of four. I'm a student. I—have graduated?"

Many fragmented memory fragments have been running through my mind.I tried to put them together, and found that most of the logically coherent parts belonged to my six or seven years old, and there were some more scattered ones in my teens, but none of them seemed to be recent.If I hadn’t deliberately searched for memories, I wouldn’t have noticed the existence of those two gaps at all: the one that belonged to me was about ten years old, maybe very short and quite confusing, and I couldn’t even remember whether I had magic power for a while; The other period belongs to the days before my time point.I found that I could neither remember where I came from nor where I was.

The environment around me felt very strange to me.There is a soft bed by the window, a cabinet covering one wall, and the plain wallpaper has a clean and old feeling.My eyes finally fell on a chair by the bed.

On it lay a set of neatly folded underwear, and a beautifully written note:

"The bathroom is at the end of the corridor on the left hand side of the bedroom door, and everything in it is free to use. If you have any doubts about your own state, you just need to go down a flight of stairs, and I will wait for you in the dining room. I Eating breakfast. - AC"

There is also a flower under the note. The petals are a beautiful golden red, but I can't name it.

Only then did I notice that there was a white bandage on my right hand. It went around the tiger's mouth, sticking thinly under the base of the finger, wrapping my palm.I squeezed it hard and felt a faint tingling.

I took off the pajamas, followed the instructions on the note to take care of my whole body, and then walked towards the stairs.

The staircase spiraled into a rather large space.I came down from the upper floor and just happened to meet someone.

The man sat at one end of a long white wooden table, with a shallow china plate and silver knife and fork in front of him, which was already empty.There is also a glass of milk next to it, which looks like it has not been touched much.The man held his fingers on the milk glass, and his head was facing the blue sky outside the window.At a glance, I saw the graceful side face and the golden-red hair hanging on the nape of his neck.

I was about to speak, but he seemed to have noticed my sound, and turned to me first.

"Good morning," he said to me, smiling slightly.

"Good morning." I said hesitantly, not sure what to do next.

"You can sit across from me," he said.

I pull out the chair.The man seemed to be in a good mood, and he wore a well-washed shirt with a laid-back homey look.His finger tapped the empty table in front of my eyes:

"Nutella or raspberry sauce? Fried eggs with ham or fried eggs with bacon? I baked a nice bread today."

"... Nutella," I said, pulling briefly from the confusion of amnesia, "fried eggs and bacon. And thank you for the bread."

"Wait a moment," said the man.

I heard him read something softly, a spot of light flowed out from his fingertips, and a few halos of light haloed on the table, just like the ripples of raindrops falling into a pond.This seemed to activate a certain small magic circle preset above; I felt the table tremble slightly, and a small cloud of white water vapor escaped from the position in front of me, revealing a plate of sandwich bread that was still steaming underneath, and a plate of A pair of knives and forks.

"Is this a teleportation formation?" I touched the porcelain plate under my hand; it looked the same as the empty plate opposite. "Can teleportation arrays also be applied to non-living things?"

"Yes," he said, "as long as you put a useless Growth Curse on the bottom of the plate - if you draw the Rainfall Talisman with a reverse trajectory, you can ensure that the Growth Curse will always be fixed on it. At this time, the teleportation array will A judgment of "misidentifying life" is produced. Isn't it unexpected?"

His smile is very easy and sly.Every word he said involved a piece of knowledge about magic in my brain; I couldn't help but nodded.

I originally thought that the color of those eyes was too light, as if they were completely transparent, and even the inhumanity in them would become fleeting in such a light color; Cannot be conveyed richly.At this time, I couldn't help but think that just when his gaze was withdrawn from the window, there must be a little bit of the blue sky outside falling inside.

"Wait," I said to him, "I feel like I've lost a memory, I don't even know where I'm sitting right now—"

"But you can remember the magic part." He said, looking at me.

"That's right." I had a headache.

"Eat something first," he said to me, "and I'll tell you what I know."

I picked up the knife and fork as I said, and sliced ​​a soft-boiled egg little by little.It was still warm, slightly browned on the outside, and sprinkled with just the right amount of salt.

"Last night, you were sent to me by someone. I learned that you had just experienced an accident and lost most of your memory afterward, and needed a place to recuperate." The man said unhurriedly, " I promise to take care of you for a year. This is my home, and it used to be just me. Half of its rooms have a magical purpose, and now every door will be open for you—whether it is for training or Relax. You have access to everything."

"everything?"

"Everything. But let me say in advance that I don't know much about the accident, and I won't share any details with you."

"Who sent me here?"

"An old acquaintance of mine. I can't tell you who he is yet."

"Did he pay a deposit for me?"

He stroked the side of the milk glass with his index finger again and again, as if he was lowering his eyes, looking at a reflection that didn't exist on it.

"Paid," he said, "for a long time."

I also wanted to ask him "how long did you pay", but seeing his expression, I suddenly felt that it was no longer necessary.

He blinked again. "Rent only. Clothes are mine—you didn't bring them."

I looked down at my chest, and the hand that was cutting the bread stopped.

"Still fit?" he said.

"Hmm..." I thought this should be the right time to praise the owner's items, but there was always a strange feeling that made me not know where to start, so I said, "I think the clothes look good."

He asked me to finish my breakfast before he would talk to me again, and he took a sip of the milk in his glass.I sorted out the only remaining memories in my mind again, and when I came to my senses, I found that my eyes were on him, and he was looking at me with a smile.The table knife in my hand slashed to the edge of the plate.He seemed to laugh slightly, and went to look at the scenery again.

He happened to finish his milk just as I was clearing a plate of food.After he magically sent away our pile of cutlery, I talked to him about my faulty memory, and the vague confusion of the rest, hoping for his clarification.

"Apart from the memory when I was six or seven years old, what I remember most clearly are the miscellaneous books I read—and some knowledge about magic and sword techniques." I said, "The rest are incoherent fragments."

"That's normal," he said earnestly. "Basic theory and intuition are never forgotten. Do you remember that you have magical powers?"

"I can feel it," I said. "I can use magic. I seem to have a knife inside me—well, I guess I'm a swordsman as well as a sorcerer."

I saw that his eyes seemed to be a little dazed, so I said, "Is there something wrong?"

"No, there's nothing wrong with it." There was a certain depth in his words beyond my expectation, "I'm the same as you. I'm also a swordsman."

I belatedly remembered a question.

"Then did I know you before?"

"There's some intersection—maybe you're not impressed with me," he said.

"It's impossible," I couldn't help teasing him, "If I had met someone like you, I would definitely not be able to erase him from my memory."

He didn't answer my words, and he didn't see any expression on his face.

"Alvin Karajan." He said suddenly.

"your name?"

"Yes—you can call me Alvin," he said slowly. "That question does a lot to explain your previous sentence."

I raised my hands and couldn't help laughing.

"I won't forget it this time." I heard myself promise like this, and suddenly found that the voice was unexpectedly gentle and gentle, "Maybe it's a bit abrupt to say that, but can I call you Karajan from now on?"

"Why?" he asked, staring at me.

"I think Karajan sounds better," I said. "I think it's more beautiful than any of the others."

He sat across from me, with the light of the morning sun shining in his eyes.I thought maybe a cloud was passing high above the window, gliding away from the branches of a summer tree, hiding the sun behind it, and revealing it again; all very quickly.I suddenly had an illusion: we have sat opposite each other countless times, and I have called him this way countless times.

"Of course," Karajan told me, "of course."